


Nightswimming

by Jrade



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (Or at least kinda wrong), (as always with these two), F/F, Mildly NSFW toward the end?, Missions, Missions Gone Wrong, Sarcasm as a form of flirting, Sexual Content, Spiderbyte, Swearing, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 09:31:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16060307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jrade/pseuds/Jrade
Summary: Sombra and Widowmaker have a job: to assassinate a target. They'vealsoeach got a goal. Sombra's is pretty simple: to finally break down Widowmaker's last few walls. Widowmaker's? It's more along the line of just breaking Sombra.The assassination doesn't exactly go as planned, and neither does, well, anything else. Sometimes though, if you haveenoughplans in place, you'll eventually end up where you were trying to get. Kind of.A mostly lighthearted romp through a violent mission with plenty of teasing and snark, and eventual resolution as well.





	Nightswimming

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks, this is kinda sequel to ["One Night on the Job"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11965236) which I wrote, uh, way long ago? One of these days I'm going to put the several works I've written in that series into an _actual_ Series on Ao3, but unfortunately it's not this day, oops.
> 
> It gets kinda NSFW at the end but isn't very explicit, for what that's worth.

_ “Merde.” _

Sombra knew a lot, generally. 

She knew the best way through an Ikimura protocol-972 security firewall, and she also knew the fastest way, and knew that they  _ weren’t _ the same thing. She knew how to use an opponent’s momentum against them in a fight and leave them with a mouthful of broken teeth for their troubles. She knew where to find the best damn ice cream in North America.

She knew a lot,  _ generally. _

As time went by and she worked with Widowmaker more and more, she began to learn more  _ specifically _ about the assassin. She’d learned that Widowmaker held a mission’s success first and foremost, and that she’d tolerate a sometimes surprising amount of tomfoolery as long as the target was achieved. She’d learned that it wasn’t easy to prove to Widowmaker that you could do  _ both _ of those things. She’d learned to approach from certain angles, not to surprise the sniper for fear of ingrained reflexes.

A few weeks ago she’d nearly died on a rooftop with Widowmaker being the only person nearby, and the events of that night had changed their relationship a bit. Since then, she’d learned that Widowmaker really appreciated nails dragging across her scalp, and hard lip bites, and was a particular fan of pinning Sombra to the wall. Truth be told, Sombra was a fan of that too.

She felt like she knew Widowmaker pretty well, now. At least, generally.

The sniper had a lot of tells - little quirks of the face and body postures. More than she  _ thought _ she did, Sombra was sure of that. She suspected that the sniper thought herself above such foolish things as giving herself away, but she still did it, so obviously. Her little French swears were no different. Sombra knew what they meant, too.

Slowly, her lips curled into a grin and one eyebrow quirked higher than the other as she peeked over the sniper’s shoulder. “So… that means I was right, huh? He’s not here?”

“ _ Fermez-la _ ,” Widowmaker muttered below her breath, still peering through the scope with her visor down, scanning the property.

A pleasant little shimmy ran down Sombra’s spine, and it had nothing to do with the climate. In fact, it was almost unbearably hot despite the sun having gone down hours ago - and despite Sombra’s youth in Mexico giving her somewhat of a resistance to that sort of thing, too.

“I do  _ love _ when you speak French to me,  _ amiga,” _ Sombra purred, leaning forward over Widowmaker’s prone form.

Her goal was probably the neck - she hadn’t quite decided yet, maybe the earlobe - but regardless, she never made it that far. An elbow twitched, sharp and sudden, and lurched up into her gut.

It didn’t knock the wind out of her outright, but the sensation was sharp enough to interrupt her breath for a moment and make her pull back as Widowmaker replied, “Then I shall need to avoid it. Do not bother me while I am working, you should know better than this by now.”

She did know it, too, somewhere in the back of her mind - but then there were moments that the sniper would be more than happy to press her into a corner until her knees were giving out, regardless of what mission they were on or how it was going.

Maybe she didn’t know  _ everything _ about Widowmaker quite yet. It was pretty annoying, actually. Sombra rolled her eyes and sat back, against the tree trunk they had set up next to. “Geeze, you don’t want me to have  _ any _ fun.”

“That is correct.”

Blunt words, to be sure, but Sombra saw the hint of a smirk at the corner of Widowmaker’s lips. It was fun, this back-and-forth - it always had been. It only got more fun the more it involved, the higher the stakes were. At first, Widowmaker had just been some temporary colleague to annoy, but  _ now _ she was a substantially-more-permanent colleague and occasional makeout buddy to annoy.

Not that Sombra was going to go getting that title tattooed on her arm anytime soon, or anything like that. She definitely wouldn’t call Widowmaker a girlfriend, but they’d fooled around a little, at least. Kissed and a tantalizingly tiny bit more than that, heated gropes and grasps, even if there had been a bit of a brick wall when it came to  _ finishing _ matters.

A brick wall she was still trying to chip away at - she wasn’t sure whether it would take something as drastic as getting shot in the back again, but she had to admit that she wasn’t wholly opposed to the idea.

It would be better than admitting she wanted it, that was for sure.  _ Wanting _ something was dangerous, and it was leverage, and Sombra  _ never _ willingly gave away leverage. So, of course, she hadn’t ever actually  _ said _ what she wanted from Widowmaker. Hadn’t asked. Hadn’t said that she’d be a big fan if things turned into more than just kisses.

Still, it had to be  _ known. _ That was what made being denied frustrating.

“Maybe I’ll just have to make my  _ own _ fun then,” Sombra sighed, trying to inject every ounce of insinuation she could into her tone. “Since you’re, y’know, cutting me out like this. Maybe  _ that _ would distract you from your precious little mission, huh? If I just sat back here and started stripping off, all sweaty from this heat, and just-”

She was cut off by a sharp, decisive gunshot; she was used to the rifle’s sounds, but not usually from this  _ close, _ and even though the weapon’s noise had been muffled for the mission she still flinched instinctively and clapped her hands to the side of her head.

“Hey! What the fuck? Little warning next time?” Sombra stretched her jaw, trying to pop her ears which were still attempting to deal with the sudden pressure differential they’d encountered.

Widowmaker chuckled, low and smooth, as she rolled over onto her back. “Mmm, what is the matter?” She sighed contentedly, her eyes meeting Sombra’s almost lazily as she raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Was it not good for you? It was good  _ pour moi. _ If only I had a cigarette.”

Again, Sombra was left to roll her eyes. “Talk about being over too quickly,” she muttered. “So I guess that means you found him then, huh?”

“ _ Non, _ I was just shooting at beer bottles,” Widowmaker scoffed, letting her rifle retract and collapse into its compact, close-combat form. “Of  _ course _ I found him. I always do. None escape me.”

Sombra’s eyes flicked up, away from Widowmaker and toward the hilltop mansion illuminated about a kilometre and a half away. Her cybernetic eye zoomed in on the scene a bit - enough for her to see a shattered glass door leading onto one of the many balconies, but not enough for her to see where the bullet had actually  _ ended _ its trajectory inside the building and presumably inside its owner as well. Not quite.

Not that there was any question about that, really. Sombra knew exactly where it had ended up, she just didn’t see the point in inspecting it. Widowmaker pretty much never missed.

...not that Sombra needed to  _ say _ that.

“So, did you hit him then?” Sombra smirked at the flash of annoyance on Widowmaker’s face. The teasing was a lot of fun - definitely a lot more fun than thinking about the stuff she wanted but wasn’t getting. She snickered, then looked up in curiosity as Widowmaker stood and walked not away from the site and toward the extraction zone, but rather, in the same direction her bullet had travelled.

It did feel like a tiny little victory, that Widowmaker didn’t have a quick retort ready. The rallies were a lot of fun, batting insults back and forth, but the most fun was scoring a point at the end of a long string - at least, that was Sombra’s opinion.

“What’s up,  _ chica? _ What, are you really  _ that _ worried you didn’t hit him?” Sombra’s sharp grin widened at the brief narrow glance Widowmaker shot her way as she started to follow the lithe sniper.

“I mean, I guess,” Sombra continued nonchalantly, double-checking all emergency channels to see if any reports had been filed of gunshots, ”I could hack into the cameras and check for you - y’know, if you asked real nice and all. Don’t need to go walking all the way out there.”

They were far past the outskirts of the city and this reclusive billionaire had appreciated his privacy, but it never hurt to double-check the datastreams - Widowmaker had brought along a silencer for the rifle that prevented any of the on-site security from being able to hear the gunshot from the distance, but there was still a risk of campers or nighttime hikers closer to the firing point overhearing.

However, no flags, no calls, no reports. No witnesses to their mission at all. They’d had three days to carry it out, and Sombra was actually a little bit disappointed that they were going to finish it up in the first night. The guy was  _ supposed _ to be on a business trip and arrive home tomorrow, but Widowmaker had said she was certain he’d be returning home a night early.

Sombra had kinda been looking forward to a few lengthy stake-outs to map out the situation, a few nights’ stay in the hotel room they’d acquired. Something to maybe kick the relationship up a notch  _ without _ needing to ask for it.

Now, though, it would seem that Widowmaker had been correct and that they’d be heading back to Talon in the morning - or maybe even in a few minutes, in the dead of night. Widowmaker was a real stickler for the rules with things like that sometimes, and Sombra rolled her eyes just at the  _ thought _ .

The ride out here had been real promising. Widowmaker had been all over her, tugging at her hair and sucking on her neck - Sombra had been  _ sure _ that they were  _ finally _ going to get down to more, she’d even hacked the dropship’s cameras and everything, but every time she tried to slip a hand inside that stupid purple bodysuit it would get slapped away, and every time she’d tried to yank her own shirt off she’d found it frustratingly held in place at the hem by Widowmaker.

Still, she thought that she’d be able to chip through that wall over a few days with nothing else to do and no other contacts - get a few bottles of booze back to the hotel maybe, something like that. She’d had such big plans, and now the asshole needed to go and get back home early and be dead all of a sudden.

_ Talk about being over too quickly. Can’t count on any chico to last long enough, _ Sombra thought, and that made her smirk at least - even if the rest of her plans for the mission had been a bust.

Although, Widowmaker still hadn’t called in the hit to base yet. Hadn’t called for extraction. Sombra looked at her again in the moonlight, studying her curiously from behind, but she could never tell what was going on inside that head.

 

\---

 

Widowmaker kept walking, swiftly and surely, over desert rock and small clumps of vegetation toward the hilltop mansion on the outskirts of some city she’d never bothered learning the name of. It had been a simple mission, not worth spending much planning or thought on - at first, in fact, she’d even considered suggesting that somebody else handle it because it had seemed so certain to be a bore.

Then she’d seen in the dossier that the annoying hacker would be the other member of the mission, and the thought had given her a bare moment’s pause. The annoyances had hardly ceased when the girl had nearly died - in fact, they’d only redoubled. Sombra was far more annoying than she had ever been, now.

Still, Widowmaker would rather work with an annoying partner than a boring one. With Sombra there, the mission was all but guaranteed to hold some interest at least.

It had made her smile, in fact - the thought of getting to toy with Sombra more, and more intensely. The occasional barbs around the bases and on deployments were fun enough, but the idea of having  _ days _ with nobody around, nobody to interrupt, and nothing but Sombra at her mercy? That was a delightful concept.

Enough so that she’d ensured the target could be eliminated on the first night. It had taken some research and a favour, and an extracurricular assassination of a small-time arms dealer in Nicaragua, but it would be worth it.

It had been fun to tease Sombra when the hacker had first joined up, when the girl’s plain interest and lame attempts at flirtation had been the only points of leverage. Things shifting so that Sombra wanted  _ more _ \- her little “distractions” at first, kissing and touching - that had only made it better. With every passing day and every passing interaction, every reinforcement too, Sombra’s desires increased and increased, and as a result so did Widowmaker’s enjoyment of the whole situation.

At this point, she figured the hacker was probably ready to pop. After a week or two of kisses being stopped bluntly short of anything further, or sometimes being turned away entirely - she would deliberately entice Sombra at the firing range sometimes, and then when the hacker’s hands approached her body, she would smack them away.

The shock in Sombra’s gasp was always a joy.

She’d taken full advantage of it in the dropship ride here, too - spending half of the time with fingers tight in Sombra’s hair and teeth scraping at her neck, and had only barely been able to force the annoying girl to keep her clothes mostly on.

Although, there was a downside. That being, primarily, that the kisses weren’t altogether unpleasant. Sombra’s warmth was certainly not offensive when it was pressed against her, she would never say that it was.

Would Widowmaker say she wanted more? No, of course not. She would never say that.

However, she was something of an expert in unsaid truths.

There was a danger in wanting. Wants could be denied, wants were power and she refused to be under another’s power if she could avoid it, refused to kneel by choice. One more hand on her leash was something she certainly wished to avoid.

Did she want more? Yes, she did, and she knew it. She wanted Sombra panting,  _ begging, _ she wanted her heat redoubled and ever so close - she wanted much. None of which, of course, she would say.

It was a simple matter, anyway, to get whatever one desired. It was all a matter of planning, setup, and execution; all strengths of hers.

She didn’t look over toward Sombra, not at first as the girl made her small attempts at teasing and those thoughts all flickered through Widowmaker’s head, and her response didn’t initially seem relevant or related, because it wasn’t.

“I saw a pool.”

It made so little sense, in fact, that Sombra just nodded along with half a groan before she actually registered the words consciously and stopped on the spot. “Wait- pool? What?”

Chuckling, Widowmaker spun on heel to face her, grinning wide in the moonlight. “A pool. You know - filled with water, for swimming. A pool.”

“I  _ know _ what a pool is, I m-” Sombra started to protest, but Widowmaker cut her off.

“Then why did you ask, you silly thing?” She stepped closer as she spoke, every sure-footed pace bringing her nearer to Sombra and forcing Sombra to look up in order to meet her eyes. Eyes which hadn’t blinked, which stared back glowing golden in the moonlight.

“I  _ meant, _ of course,” Widowmaker murmured, close enough now that she didn’t need to speak at full volume, “that I saw a pool on his property, through my scope. I thought to myself,” she tipped her head to the side, standing close enough that another step would force Sombra backward, “it is a warm night. We might go for a swim. If, that is - to use  _ your  _ words - you  _ asked real nice and all.” _

Her tone shifted toward mockery at the end, and Sombra scoffed. “Oh, so that’s what it is? What, you want me to beg or some shit?”

“Oh,  _ would _ you?” Widowmaker’s voice carried sudden urgency, but Sombra had no doubt that it was entirely intentional and manufactured.

Still, as she leaned in closer and placed her mouth right next to Sombra’s ear, Sombra got a little bit of a chill despite the night’s warmth.

It was unfair how hot Widowmaker’s coldness was, both literal and metaphoric.

“Beg or not,” Widowmaker whispered, “it makes no difference.”

Sombra’s arms moved without her consciously directing them, her hands caressing at the ghosts of Widowmaker’s curves but not actually  _ touching _ her - hovering an inch or two above her hips, her ribs, just for a few seconds before Sombra pulled them back down to her sides.

There were a lot of almost-thoughts that rambled and ran through her head as her hands strained as if against invisible cuffs, but by the time they fell away, there was only one thought left in Sombra’s head.

Everything she’d tried had made no difference, had had no effect, had done  _ nothing. _ There were a few things she  _ hadn’t _ tried, of course, but most of them were a problem for one reason or another - either risky or unpleasant or unlikely to succeed - and there was, largely, only really one solid path that remained. One card to play.

Giving up.

“Yeah,” Sombra grumbled as she stuffed her hands into pockets buried in her skirt, “you’ve made that  _ plenty _ clear,  _ amiga. _ What’s a girl gotta do, get shot again?”

“I have a rifle, if you wish to try it,” Widowmaker retorted wryly with a grin, and kept walking. “I cannot deny that the idea of you in pain is attractive.”

“Well I’m plenty pained over here,  _ chica! _ If I had balls they’d be bluer than the- than fucking-  _ you,”  _ she managed after a moment of irritated mumbling. She hadn’t prepared for this. She’d had a plan, and a good one, but it had gone to hell - she didn’t have the time to tease and chip away anymore. Had to try something new. Something  _ drastic. _

Still preferable to admitting and asking, though.

Widowmaker laughed brightly, the sound carrying easily through the clear night. She was quite pleased with the effects she was having - Sombra was normally so much an annoyance, normally so frustrating, normally the one restricting Widowmaker from her own goals due to foolishness or greed or not following the mission plan. It was a joy to turn that all around and point it back in the hacker’s direction.

It felt like a victory. It  _ was _ a victory, in fact, and perfectly according to plan - Widowmaker had thought Sombra was near the point of popping and giving up entirely, and it was never a disappointment to be correct.

“What can I say?” She hiked up her rifle to rest back against her shoulder, grinning wide as she stopped short of the perimeter fence. “I am an old-fashioned woman. Find me a ring, then we will talk.”

It wasn’t the first time she’d said it, a cajoling jab that had become commonplace in Sombra’s ears whenever her hands were batted away, and she just rolled her eyes at the repetition of it. Tonight, though, it stuck out all the more given the dropship ride and everything else - tonight, she couldn’t just let it lay at that, she had to turn it around and send it back.

_ Somehow. _

“I’ll find you a fuckin’ ring alright,” Sombra muttered under her breath, swiping a hand grumpily in a purple streak that disabled the perimeter fence’s sensors without sending any alarm. “A fucking-” she tried to thing of something ringlike but  _ bad, _ something that she could say to turn a request into a prank, a gift into a curse, but nothing came to mind and her mouth stumbled over nothing before she gave up entirely, “find a f- you g- god _ dammit _ ,” she sighed as her words just fell apart into a jumble and Widowmaker laughed triumphantly.

Sombra knew she’d be paying for that one for a while. Any rally where you missed a shot was embarrassing,  _ particularly _ missing one by that  _ much _ . Sometimes, though, that was just the price to be paid - still better than asking for something.

“Ah, such a decisive retort. What is the matter?” Widowmaker’s voice was full of obvious humour as she stepped forward from untended desert scrub brush onto a plane of manicured sand and rock with cacti planted at strategically pleasant-looking intervals. It looked like what would happen if you asked a not-particularly-creative machine to design a perfect desert, it was neat and tidy and entirely uninteresting and she ambled through it without concern.  _ “Pussycat  _ have a hold on your tongue,  _ cherie?” _

It was probably dangerous to go onto the property, given that there was a squad of armed mercenaries with kill-orders stationed on the grounds at all times, but Sombra’d never given much of a shit about that kind of stuff. Besides which, at this rate, she might’ve welcomed a bullet. Not a fatal one, but just a little one, something to cause a bit of a scare or provide some leverage.

Or at least get her out of needing to deal with this humiliation. “No comment,” she muttered, cheeks warm and ears ringing.

It was obvious that Widowmaker was trying to tease her, trying to lead her on, and Sombra even knew why. It was their game, and it always had been. The frustrating thing wasn’t the game.

The frustrating thing was that, for the first time, she was  _ losing. _

Sure, it was a little frustrating to keep trying to push things, but it wasn’t  _ really. _ That had been how things were from day one - Widowmaker pretended to be uninterested and think Sombra was annoying, and Sombra hit on her and knew that she secretly thought Sombra was hot. It was obvious, and it was still the same even if the goalposts had moved a little bit so now there were kisses and stuff thrown in with the older fare of teasing remarks and comments.

Unfortunately, when the goalposts had moved, Sombra’s aim had apparently gone to shit. She felt like she’d barely managed to land even a few good shots since that night on the rooftop - which had, admittedly, been a  _ pièce de résistance _ on her part, a real masterwork of subtle manipulation.

She knew that Widowmaker thought it had all been  _ her _ plan, something she threw together to stop Sombra from panicking, but Sombra knew better -  _ she _ knew that the whole thing had been her own masterminded and devious plan to get Widowmaker to kiss her, getting shot and playing up her own panic until the sniper would do  _ anything _ to stop it, and she knew that if she set her mind to it she could get anything else she wanted out of the chilly French sniper as well.

She knew all of that, of course, and if her gut still writhed when she thought about what it had been like on the rooftop, that didn’t matter. Just because everything got all squirmy inside when she thought about it, didn’t mean that it hadn’t been intentional.

Just because she’d never meant it to happen, didn’t mean it wasn’t her plan. The setup, the playing field, the rules - that had all been happenstance and a lucky bullet, sure, but how she’d  _ played _ the hand she was dealt? That had been all Sombra.

Now they were playing a new round of the same game and her cards were shit.

“Mmm, have I ever told you I simply love  _ winning? _ ” Widowmaker wrapped an arm idly around Sombra’s shoulder, her smile widening as the hacker only grumbled in response. Sombra kept up this persona of unflappability - a facade of being greater than any disturbance, beyond the reach of anything, and Widowmaker had wanted very much to tear that down from the first moment.

Initially, she had considered doing so with a bullet, but that idea was no longer a palatable one.

Not because she had any feelings for Sombra, of course - nothing as silly as that, no. It was merely that it would be over too quickly. A bullet, and the annoying girl’s suffering would be over in moments, but with words? With touches? Widowmaker could make her suffer for a  _ lifetime. _

That was all it was.

She pulled her arm a little bit tighter around Sombra’s shoulders with a chuckle, appreciating her body heat even in the warm night air. “ _ Mais, _ do not feel bad about this,  _ cherie - _ there is no shame in losing to me. At least,” she reconsidered with a tip of her head, “no shame beyond that of losing at all.  _ That _ is quite shameful.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Sombra muttered swiftly beneath burning cheeks, “look just shut up, alright? I could still hit the alarm and have this whole place lit up in five seconds, and you’re making that look like a better and better idea every second.”

“Oh,  _ threats,” _ Widowmaker murmured appreciatively, patting Sombra on the shoulder. “Tell me, though,  _ ma cherie -  _  why would you want to ruin this perfect night, hmm? Why, just think of all you would miss out on if you killed us both in this very moment.  _ Alors,  _ I have not even brought a bathing suit to swim in. You would miss out on that, at the least.”

Sombra nodded idly along, grunting and grumbling at key points of the sentence as if to be involved - outlining clearly the ideas that it  _ wasn’t _ a perfect night, that she was pretty sure she was going to be missing out on some pretty big things even if she  _ didn’t _ just kill them both, and that she’d happily make them need to fight their way through a horde of mercs rather than confess to her own feelings and desires. Clearly stating those ideas - or, perhaps, not so clearly - but then she stalled as her brain caught up to the last sentence Widowmaker had said.

_ No bathing s… huh? _ Sombra stopped, standing in place as Widowmaker continued to stroll forward toward the mansion and the pool.

The cameras were out, Sombra had taken care of that already - or, rather, they were being fed false data. The security detail checking the feeds wouldn’t see the owner laying dead on the floor wherever he was, and they wouldn’t see the pair outside either. To them, everything would look like a normal, quiet night.

It  _ was _ a normal quiet night, even. At least, it was if Sombra didn’t look up at the shattered glass door on the second floor - which wasn’t hard. There were far better sights holding her attention.

Such as, for instance - as happened from time to time - Widowmaker. The pool was lit from within, bright green light shifting through to blue and then to purple, slowly, playing across Widowmaker’s skin along with the moonlight as she approached the water.

She slipped her rifle’s sling off of one shoulder, leaning the weapon up against a nearby wall as nonchalantly as she possibly could. Inside, she was as giddy as she could be - which, admittedly, was still fairly flat - but on the outside, she was as placid as ever as she started to slip her bodysuit off of one shoulder.

She could practically  _ hear _ Sombra’s heart thumping behind her, even from the distance. The pool itself was secondary, of course - as things so nearly always were. Her real goal here, her  _ only _ real goal, had been to tease the hacker once more to within an inch of her life.

Or, perhaps, even an inch further than that.

It wasn’t even difficult. Widowmaker pulled her bodysuit off the rest of the way, and followed it up with her visor, hanging that from the rifle leaning against the wall, and the whole time she listened in glee to Sombra’s notable lack of words or reaction.

When Widowmaker turned around, it was to see Sombra staring back at her in the moonlight, her expression halfway between seething anger and smoldering lust, and that was  _ exactly _ what Widowmaker had wanted. She stalked halfway back around the pool, keeping her eyes locked on Sombra’s in the shifting light.

A  _ perfect _ night. Or at least, very nearly.

It wasn’t over yet, though.

 

\---

 

Sombra stared, glared, stood stock-still and frozen in the moonlight as Widowmaker stripped everything off and started to walk over, and her mind and the rest of her quickly set to warring over it all.

Part of her brain told her that this was just a ploy, just one more card being played - just her hopes being built up to be knocked down once more. Another part of her brain - the one that was linked directly to the  _ eyes  _ \- replied that it didn’t give a shit, it was just happy for the show, and if Widowmaker wanted to slap her hands away, or slap her right in the face, or step on her fucking  _ throat _ , it didn’t give a shit. Her heart didn’t have much of an opinion, per se, but it definitely had a reaction as it started to gallop.

Her hands twitched but then held in place, again restrained as if by unseen manacles at her sides as she refused to let her  _ body _ give in and reveal what her  _ mind _ so desperately refused to. She wouldn’t  _ say _ what she wanted and she sure as hell wouldn’t confess to it through other means, either. That was important.

...but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to do  _ anything _ about it. That would just be stupid. You had to play the game, even if you had a shitty hand.

“Well?” Widowmaker raised an eyebrow, resting a hand on one bare hip. “Are you coming, or not?”

Sombra could  _ feel _ her mouth dry out at that, at the words as well as the little smirk that tugged at the corner of Widowmaker’s lips when she said it. “I can see a thing or two I wouldn’t mind diving into,” she muttered as her feet started to carry her over closer toward Widowmaker and the pool.

Sure, it was an easy shot to set up and she was sure Widowmaker would take it, but sometimes you just had to get shot in order to get what you wanted.

The sniper held still as Sombra approached, some five or ten feet away from the pool’s edge. She put on her best uncaring air, and it was a very good one - seemingly entirely unconcerned with anything that was happening, right up until Sombra was upon her.

She stopped about two paces back, stopped and looked Widowmaker up and down and up again, quite literally burning the image into her memory. One of her supplementary membanks actually pinged a little code-snippet of complaint, but she didn’t care; if this was all a play that she was going to suffer for, she’d juice it for everything it was worth. Last time, it had been a bullet - this time, it was probably going to be even worse, so she was determined to get more than a kiss or two or fifty out of it.

A few dozen gigabytes of covertly stored holo-image data of Widowmaker, bare naked and practically glowing in the moonlight? That was worth a few dozen bullets at least, in Sombra’s mind. It might -  _ might _ \- have even been worth a request or an admission.

Maybe.

As Widowmaker took a step forward, though, Sombra’s gaze diverted instantly away from her body and up to her eyes - bright gold in the pool-light and moonlight, and inscrutable as ever, but still somehow so obvious. She’d wanted this the whole time, she must have, Sombra could see it all written right there. Widowmaker had wanted this just as much as her, all the teasing and toying had just been deflection - just like always.

It was the game they played, and it didn’t matter who won or lost, because the point was the game itself.

Just like that, it clicked in her mind and made sense, and her heated and conflicted expression was replaced by an almost triumphant smirk that quickly spread into a toothy grin. Widowmaker wanted the same things, of course - she just  _ also _ didn’t want to say anything about it. Just like this whole time, pretending to be interested to avoid vulnerability, it was just an extension.  _ Chica _ was weird about stuff like that, Sombra knew; she’d get all tense and quiet sometimes when it would be so easy for her to just say “Sombra, you’re hot, let’s fuck.”

Not that she’d say it that  _ way, _ of course, but still.

As she was thinking about it, Sombra couldn’t help but think that Widowmaker was pretty stupid for not just doing that, in fact. Why’d she feel the need to go around hiding it all the time? It was as plain as the nose on her face or the look in her eyes, and Sombra returned that look with anticipated delight.

Widowmaker saw the expression and her lips parted, a soft noise of understanding coming out. “Ahh, now she sees,” Widowmaker murmured softly as she raised a hand to stroke a fingertip down Sombra’s jaw to the chin. “Now she knows that it is finally the time…”

“Yeah, about fuckin’ time,  _ amiga,” _ Sombra muttered swiftly as her eyes darted around Widowmaker’s bared form again, but this time with the swift and frantic energy of picking out a target in combat. The collarbone, that’s where she was going to start - at least, with her mouth. Her hands had their own assignments, and they started to rise from her sides as she prepared to make her move.

“Ah yes,” Widowmaker reiterated as she saw a hint of movement out of the corner of her eyes, Sombra coiling like a cat or a viper and preparing to strike. So foolish, to telegraph her movements like that. “Yes, now she sees, that it is time…  _ for a swim.” _

Widowmaker allowed herself a moment, just one brief moment as her fingertip lingered at Sombra’s chin, just an instant, barely long enough to see the heat in Sombra’s gaze give way to confusion. Just enough time to get that thrill of success before she dropped her hand, balled up a tight fistful of fabric, and flung Sombra sideways into the pool.

There was no preliminary or predatory prowling before she pounced, no preparation - no indication of what she was about to do, not until it was done, and as a result Sombra had no time to counter it.

She scrambled as soon as her feet left the ground, one hand flying to Widowmaker’s clutching the front of her jacket, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to get a good grip - she knew it as her fingers failed to lock into place around Widowmaker’s wrist, and she had only enough time for one brief thing before the inevitable.

“FUCK YOU  _ CHICA!” _

That was all she had time for before she struck the water, and the instant she did, she  _ felt _ it. Not just the water, but more - springing through her like an electric shock, the mansion’s security systems reacting.

Suddenly, there was a lot more at stake, and far bigger concerns than her wet clothes or getting some payback on Widowmaker. Sombra let her body fall limp and float facedown in the water as she dedicated all of her concentration to everything that was about to go down - which, she now knew, was a  _ lot _ .

The game had just changed.

 

\---

 

Widowmaker laughed as the water splashed high into the night, Sombra falling seemingly all the way to the bottom of the pool. She laughed and stood with her arms crossed and a wide grin as water pushed up at the sides of the pool, overflowing it and lapping at her toes with a pleasant warmth.

“Ah, you are such a joy to toy with,  _ cherie. _ Not that I will be telling you this, of course, _ ” _ she murmured to herself as she watched Sombra float beneath the water - no doubt shocked to the point of stillness by her hopes being so totally crushed. No doubt acting up like a child, throwing a tantrum when it thought it would not get its new toy.

...yet, she wasn’t moving.

Widowmaker stepped closer to the pool’s edge, peering down with slight curiosity. There was no blood spreading in the water, so it was unlikely the girl had hit her head. Widowmaker had seen her soaked before, by rain or other means, so her electronics were surely waterproof. There seemed to be no reason for it, but Sombra was still unmoving, floating halfway between the pool’s bottom and its surface.

No doubt in some attempt to get Widowmaker to enter the water herself, to lend aid - no doubt, to lure Widowmaker away from her safety at the edge of the pool. That was, by far, the most likely reason, and while Widowmaker  _ did _ intend to go for a swim, she intended it to be only on  _ her _ terms.

“You will not lure me into some trap so easily,  _ cherie,” _ she called out softly as the waters began to calm, ripples colliding with each other and cancelling each other out. “Come now, you can not expect that-”

“HOLD IT! PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD! DON’T MOVE!”

Her head snapped over at the swift cavalcade of commands, spoken in different voices - she heard them only as she saw them, their bootsteps muffled and covered by the sloshing noises of the pool. Two dozen mercenaries, armed with assault rifles and armoured from their toes to their heads, coming around both corners of the mansion.

Her eyes flicked over to her rifle, leaning against the wall - she would never make it there in time, not with their rifles trained on her, and still they came and still they called out. Perhaps she could hope that they would not notice the weapon or the shattered glass above, would remain focused on her, and that she could keep their hostilities at bay until another solution presented itself.

An unpalatable solution at best, keeping hostilities to a minimum, but desperate times called for measures which matched

“DON’T MOVE! PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD! GET DOWN ON THE GROUND!”

Six of them encircled her, staying unfortunately far enough away that she couldn’t engage them hand-to-hand, and she did her best to just look confused and innocent as she slipped her hands behind her head but didn’t take to her knees. Not yet.

The others spread in a wider half-circle behind those six, all attention focused on her and outward into the desert - none looking back and up to the shattered glass she’d made earlier, and that was as lucky as it was unfortunate. She would have loved to have seen the expressions on their faces, the confusion and surprise and shock and horror to know how utterly they had failed to protect their charge.

She always did enjoy things like that.  _ Reactions. _

Two of them split off to the opposite side of the pool and looked in. “We have a body in the water,” one called out, keeping his rifle trained on the floating and still form of Sombra. The other looked up to focus on Widowmaker, his rifle joining at least a half-dozen others.

“Who are you? Who’s she? What are you doing here? Don’t move - get on the ground, get on your knees!”

She would not be doing that. Keeping hostilities to a minimum was unfortunate enough, but kneeling? Unacceptable.

They gestured with their rifles, as if she did not know where the ground was. They postured and gesticulated, as if she did not know that they posed some small threat. They shouted, as if she could not hear them, and every time they did it only infuriated her all the further.

Widowmaker all but seethed inside, at least from her reference point, but kept her face calm and confused as she looked between them with a soft frown. “What? I don’t-” she twisted her voice, dropping her accent and making herself sound like some drunken partygoer. “What’s going on? I just wanted to swim!”

Of course, they didn’t buy it. Or at least, they did not relent - their commands redoubled, their shouts for her to get on the ground, and she had the sinking suspicion that she might need to do as they requested in order to buy the time she’d need to act.

Once one of them came in close, to restrain her wrists or check her for hidden weapons, whatever it was - once that happened, she would be fine. Twist around him, grab his sidearm, turn to catch the bullets of his compatriots in his body armour - the soldier furthest on the left, his body was the most tense, and his finger was tightest on the trigger, she could see it; he would be the first to fire. Block his volley while shooting the ones on the far side of the pool, then shove the meat-shield forward and assault his remaining cohorts.

She could feel her system reacting to the situation, her heart and her body shifting - her muscles tensing, ready to spring; her heart slowing its beats even further but redoubling the force of them, forcing blood firmly through her veins. The shouts began to distend as her mind kicked into overdrive, adrenaline and other chemicals flooding her brain, her eyes flicking between them as she started to plan it all out.

It would require very quick actions and reactions, but she had both. One of the mercenaries shouted, letting go of his rifle with the fore hand in order to  _ point _ at the ground, and she saw it so clearly - he moved almost as if in slow motion. Just slightly, but enough to make a difference. Combat always did this, fights always did - sometimes not as greatly as she might wish, but even a fraction of a second’s advantage made the difference between life and death. Or, rather, between death and death - her death, and theirs.

It would be theirs, too, regardless. The plan would work. She would be shot, some, quite likely, but she would survive. She always did, it was a specialty of hers. She knew she would survive, knew she would succeed.

The only problem was that, to begin, to draw the man forward from the semi-circle into range of her hands, to survive, she needed to  _ kneel. _

A flicker of something drew her eye, a screen inside the mansion just briefly flashing. She doubted that she would even have been able to see it at that speed, had it not been for all of her modifications. The reasons for that speed were quite clear, though, given the content of the message.

_ “Chica, when I get to 0, you jump, alright?” _

Widowmaker sighed through her nose and clenched her jaw a little bit. The soldiers continued to shout, one or two of them slowly advancing, and she looked to them with wide eyes - she let herself look scared, but she refused to kneel.

Even if it meant accepting Sombra’s “help”, such as it was. It wasn’t that Sombra was  _ un _ helpful, it was just that she was infuriating about the whole thing. She always was, every time she deemed that she had “helped” with a situation - whether that was actual help above and beyond the call, or simply shutting up and doing her job - she was always annoyingly smug about it afterward.

If that was the price to be paid, though, she would do so.

She certainly wouldn’t be kneeling.

The screen flashed again.  _ “3.” _ The men continued to shout, almost indistinctly. Another flash.  _ “2.” _

“GET DOWN ON THE  _ FUCKING _ GROUND, WE SAID!” The one on the left, the tense one - he took a half-step forward, and Widowmaker noticed a nervous glance or two in his direction. Perhaps he was even more likely to go off than she’d expected initially.

She only smirked, though, as the screen flashed again,  _ “1.” _ Her expression fell, the carefully crafted mask of drunken confusion, as she met his eyes. “No.”

By the time the screen flashed once more, in what was to be its final time, she had already begun to leap - she saw the words:  _ “0, JUMP NOW DAMMIT!” _

Even as she did, as she sprung into the air as high as she could, she saw other flashes - gunshots, from the man on the left, and then something incredibly bright behind him. It swept through the area with a screeching howl and then a wash of heat, an explosion; she didn’t know immediately what it was, but it hardly mattered.

One of the bullets did hit, taking a small chunk out of one forearm; a fragment of something moving at very high speeds caused a slit on one of her ribs, but she didn’t care about either of them.

The planned arc of her jump carried her forward - whatever had passed through here had knocked the men down flat, outright killing several of them. Some, it had only wounded, and some might even have been unscathed, but it was difficult to tell in an instant. Flames had filled the area, and gunfire continued to sound as the others reacted to the sudden incursion.

Widowmaker landed and then twisted, grabbing one of the mercenaries by the front of his harness and yanking him forward and down, driving her knee up into his face and then somersaulting forward overtop of him. As she did, she grabbed the rifle in his hands and ripped it free, coming up with the weapon braced against her shoulder.

It was set to burst fire rather than her own common automatic, but she quickly adjusted - a burst for the man in front of her, two for the ones standing from behind a line of flame that curled up from the pavement around the pool, one to silence a screaming man who seemed to be missing a leg, another for one who ran back toward the mansion’s corner in some attempt to find cover, a burst for the one she’d knocked down.

She was glad for this mansion owner's paranoia in that moment, in him keeping his guard so well-armed: if not for the extended magazine loaded into the rifle, she would have run out of bullets before running out of targets. As it was, though, she had more than required, and a few seconds later she stood slowly and took the situation in.

Whatever had crashed down here had done so in a dramatic fashion, scarring a huge streak almost thirty feet long, right through where the mercenaries had stood. Right  _ underneath _ where she had leapt, as well, although seeming to skirt that area to some extent. Those near the start of the streak seemed to have been killed instantly, their motionless forms lying there as flames curled around them.

Acrid smoke, thick - she wrinkled her nose and licked her lips. Jet fuel, that was what was burning, and scattered chunks of twisted metal spoke to the rest of whatever contraption it had been. Not large enough to have been anything intended for humans - Widowmaker suspected it had been a surveillance drone, perhaps one from this mansion’s very security system or perhaps one for other reasons. Weather monitoring or border patrols.

Her eyes flicked back toward the pool. Neither the drone nor the mercenaries had had any effect on it - no flames danced on the water’s surface, but the stillness of the pool was disturbed a second later by Sombra emerging.

She gasped and then shouted formlessly as she slapped her forearms onto the edge of the pool and started to haul herself up and out.

“Who the fucking-  _ fuck _ ,” Sombra growled, shaking her head and sending wet hair whipping around, “sets traps on their own motherfucking  _ pool? _ I don’t give a shit if people  _ were _ climbing in here to swim without permission, that just- you know, fuck this paranoid prick, I’m glad we killed him.”

She turned to face the mansion, holding up her middle finger toward the shattered glass on the second story with a grimace on her face lit up by the flickering light of the fires. “Rest in pieces, dick - seriously, asshole. Oh, and while I’m on  _ that _ subject,” she grunted and spun to face Widowmaker with a scowl.

“Fuck you too,  _ chica.  _ Fuck you for all your fuckin’- bullshit, and fuck you for throwing me into the pool, and fuck you for trying to get under my skin, and fuck you for-” she almost said  _ succeeding _ but cut herself off with a frustrated grunt instead as she jammed a hand in her pocket, “and fuck you for planting a  _ fucking ring _ on the bottom of the pool!”

Sometimes the only play left was a Hail Mary. At least she was only  _ throwing _ it this time, and not  _ praying _ it in her mind.

Widowmaker quirked an eyebrow, resting the assault rifle back against her shoulder as Sombra’s hand emerged from her pocket and flung something small at the ground with great speed - it bounced, and caught the moonlight, and she could see quite clearly that it was in fact a ring. Not one she’d planted on the pool’s bottom, of course, but she still couldn’t help but appreciate the irony.

Irony notwithstanding, Sombra seemed determined to continue with her rant. “-and fuck you for teasing me on the whole trip out here,” she began to tick items off on her fingers, “and fuck you for last Tuesday when you got  _ Gabe _ a fuckin’ ice cream sandwich but you didn’t get one for me, and fuck you for being on your phone the whole time last time I came over for movie night - I mean,  _ please, _ the Fast and Furious franchise is a fucking  _ classic _ and Fast Fifty is easily one of the top five of the whole deal, and you didn’t pay the tiniest bit of attention to it, so fuck you for that too, and-”

Doubtlessly, she had more. Widowmaker was well-acquainted with Sombra’s ability to carry on speaking forever without the slightest provocation - however, she did have other things she had planned for the night. She took a few steps forward while Sombra ranted, and leaned down to pick up the ring.

A silver braided band with an emerald set in it. Seemingly a real one, too. The band was a bit small for it to fit properly, from a glance, but it was not not a terrible ring at all. Widowmaker wondered where it had come from - likely slipped off of some woman who had been taking a dip in this man’s pool. Not an engagement ring, certainly, but it hardly mattered.

“-and fuck you for shooting me in the leg on that mission in Antigua - and yes I know that was you,” Sombra continued still, “and fuck you for looking so goddamned fucking hot standing there naked in the moonlight! And-”

That was as far as she got, before Widowmaker grabbed her by the back of the head, fingers twisting tightly in wet hair and pulling her in to silence all complaints and all words with her mouth.

When she withdrew, she replaced her mouth with a hand to keep Sombra silent. The hacker’s eyes flashed with confusion, irritation, and an indignant noise came muffled through her nose, but Widowmaker only grinned at that.

“Ah,” she held up the ring between them where it glinted in the moonlight, “you have actually got me a ring.”

Sombra’s brow knitted tightly as Widowmaker tried to slip the ring onto her finger, but it would only fit on a pinky.  _ “Alors,  _ it is a bit small,” she shrugged, still looking at the ring, “but I suppose it is the thought that counts.”

Her eyes flicked to Sombra’s just briefly as a hint of a smirk played at the corner of her lips. “It is good to know that you can hold your breath for a long time,  _ cherie -  _ and yes, indeed, fuck me for  _ all _ of those things. And more.”

Bright purple, almost-glowing eyes widened in the moonlight and Widowmaker’s grin widened as she loosened her grip over Sombra’s mouth. “Ahh,” Widowmaker murmured, “now she sees.”

Slowly, her hand dropped away, until nothing held back Sombra’s tongue except for the fact that she wasn’t sure what to say next. She swallowed, studying Widowmaker’s eyes for any hints, but in the end there were none there. Whether this was real, or just another move in the game, she couldn’t tell.

Either way, she knew what her play was going to be. The only thing you could do with a Hail Mary was run with it.

One of these days, she might stop throwing them - but, then, it was hard to find any flaw with any of her plans, given that they’d led her to be here with a nude Widowmaker in close quarters and smirking.

Only thing left to do was run with it.

“Y’know,” Sombra nodded slightly, thoughtfully. “I’m actually glad you shut me up when you did. I was having trouble coming up with another thing to yell at you.” Some little hint of something played across Widowmaker’s face, in her eyes, something Sombra couldn’t quite put her finger on but knew she liked, and she grinned. “Now c’mon, let’s uh… go for a  _ swim _ , shall we?”

One of Widowmaker’s eyebrows raised as Sombra stepped back and started to peel off her soaked clothing - her cybernetic implants were quite interesting, the subtle hints of wires or conduits underneath skin and the far less subtle chunks of metal that stuck out in some places such as down her spine.

In fact, Widowmaker was quite intrigued by it all; by how Sombra was put together on a physical level, as well as in her mind - wanted to unfurl and unveil all of the secrets there were to be found, from every tiny fear or desire to every weak point and ticklish spot.

Along with the fact that, when it all came down to the line, the moonlight playing across Sombra’s soaked skin really did look quite good. As did the body that it was highlighting, the curves and form sculpted by years of athleticism and touched on by surgical augmentations here or there; Widowmaker’s eyes trailed appreciatively along Sombra’s arms, bare hints of conduits underneath her skin swooping over toned muscles as Sombra stepped closer.

“Well?” The hacker quirked an eyebrow. “You coming?”

Slowly, very slowly, Widowmaker’s lips split into a grin as she stared back into Sombra’s eyes. There was so much there - hope, desire, written so plainly. The girl wanted her, she knew this and had  _ always _ known this. She wanted Sombra, as well - but she knew that it would happen in time.

It was simply so  _ fun _ to deny her. How could she resist?

“Ah,” Widowmaker sighed softly, the grin falling to a sad smile as she shook her head slightly. “Alas, if only we _could,_ _mais, cherie…”_

Sombra’s own grin didn’t falter - it sharpened, in fact, as her eyes did the same. “No - no, don’t start with that denial shit, don’t-”

Shrugging, Widowmaker dipped her head to the side, talking overtop of Sombra. “What is there to start?  _ Mais, _ perhaps if you had not crashed a drone here, perhaps-”

“Shut up, oh no, don’t you dare-” Sombra started to shake her head.

“Perhaps then, if you had not alerted the whole world to our presence with this…  _ ludicrous _ display of noise and flame,” Widowmaker glanced around with a sigh, setting her hands on her hips. “Perhaps,” her eyes flicked back to Sombra’s and narrowed, “if you had learned to approach a situation with some  _ subtlety, _ we might yet have  _ time _ for-”

“Nope, nope, shut the fuck up,” Sombra spoke up louder, momentarily drowning out Widowmaker’s voice, but she knew it was a losing battle. She already knew what the sniper was saying, was  _ going _ to say - it was as clear as the victorious gleam in her golden eyes flickering in the fires.

“Perhaps  _ then,” _ Widowmaker continued a moment later as Sombra continued to mutter dark protests under her breath, “we might be able to  _ enjoy _ ourselves here, but-”

“Shut up! God fucking  _ dammit _ don’t say it  _ amiga,  _ just-” Sombra started, but cut herself off with a frustrated groan as she grabbed at her own hair.

She could already feel the emergency services reacting. She’d cut the drone’s connections, but people had noticed the fires in the night and evidently one or more had managed to make it through Sombra’s nets and get a call through - or maybe someone had looked out of the fire hall and seen the lights in the hills, she didn’t know, but one way or another people were on their way.

“Just-” Sombra dropped her head until her chin rested on her chest, with a rough sigh. “Just- get your fucking clothes on, fine, let’s get out of here. You- ugh, goddammit you’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you? Fine.” She took a deep breath, huffing most of it out with a single shake of her head. “You win.”

Widowmaker’s laughter was louder than the crackling fires and brighter than the flames themselves, ringing through the night as she stepped forward victoriously. One fingertip went to Sombra’s chin, lifting it up from her chest until the hacker met her eyes.

“I do  _ so _ enjoy winning,” Widowmaker purred through a smirk,  _ “mais, _ perhaps I have not,  _ quite _ yet. After all, you have quite a list of tasks yet to accomplish.”

Sombra raised a cautious eyebrow as Widowmaker turned away and sauntered over to her bodysuit and rifle. Without looking down, Sombra snatched up her wet clothes from the ground, somewhat entranced by the way the flickering firelight danced across Widowmaker’s body. Perhaps her last teasing glimpse of it before everything was all over.

Or, perhaps, just one more appetizer, because she was getting another distinct suspicion. She’d known for a long time that Widowmaker liked to tease her, after all. It wasn’t hard for her to play the part that went along with it.

“Tasks? Watcha talking about,  _ amiga? _ Job’s done,” Sombra sighed with a shake of her head, sounding entirely downtrodden and suppressing a smirk, “time to go home.”

“Nonsense,” Widowmaker scoffed, pulling her bodysuit into place and setting her visor back on her head, “we have three more days’ stay in the hotel yet. How foolish you are to have forgotten that - or, as well, to have forgotten all of your little tasks. After all, it was  _ you _ who laid them out.”

Sombra blinked, frowning softly as Widowmaker turned back and approached - rifle slung over one shoulder, teeth and eyes glinting moonlight, amusement written clearly across her face as she raised a hand and started to tick off items.

“Fuck me for all of my - what did you call it? Fucking bullshit, I believe,” Widowmaker began, tapping at one finger, and Sombra’s lips immediately inverted, a frown becoming an almost-disbelieving and hesitant grin. There was something a little bizarre about hearing her speak like that, but not unwelcome at all. Just unexpected - but, expected or not, Widowmaker continued.

“And fuck me for throwing you into the pool, and fuck me for trying to get under your skin,” she ticked more items off of her fingers as she went, looking at her hands in seeming disinterest rather than at Sombra’s face.

Widowmaker wiggled her pinky finger, still wearing the ring on it.  _ “Alors, _ I did not plant the ring - however, it  _ was _ my request, so there is perhaps a fucking due there as well. You though, perhaps, instead of myself.” She shrugged, as if it made no difference in the world. Completely nonchalant, as if discussing the weather or the upcoming assassination of a foreign dignitary. 

“Then of course I must be fucked for the teasing, for the ice cream, for the phone during your movie, for shooting you in Antigua, for looking so hot in the moonlight.” Widowmaker sighed thoughtfully with a nod, pursing her lips. “It would almost seem that I have been building up the reasons for some weeks now,  _ non? _ How strange. As I said,  _ cherie, _ it is quite fortunate you can hold your breath for so long. You have quite a night in front of you if you wish to finish the whole list, yes…”

Sombra stared for a few moments, her mind running through possibilities and plays, trying to count cards in a game which she wasn’t even certain had a normal deck, and then she slowly narrowed her eyes.

It felt, to her, oddly like that first night all over again. She’d sat down to play a game, and somebody had  _ heavily _ messed up the playing board and thrown pieces everywhere - as well as which, she was pretty sure the person she was playing with was  _ not _ playing by the same rules, but when it came down to it she didn’t really give a shit about  _ rules. _ She mostly just cared about winning.

Winning meaning, of course, whatever she happened to want at the moment - and in this moment, and in so many of the various moments of the past few weeks, what she wanted had been as simple as a single word.

Widowmaker.

She just couldn’t  _ say _ it, but now she didn’t have to; it wasn’t  _ her _ plan, anymore, after all, it was  _ Widowmaker’s _ . The sniper was the one asking - or demanding, whichever. All Sombra had to do was go along with it, make it seem like she was doing Widowmaker a favour maybe.  _ Alright, fine, if you’re so hard-up for it, chica, I guess I can throw you a line. Help out a friend, as a personal favour, y’know? _

Just like the first night - there had been deliberate actions, and a lot of stuff which had just  _ happened, _ but when it came down to the line, Sombra knew what the play was. She knew what she had to do, what she should say.  _ Guess I can help out a friend, as a personal favour. _ That was all it would take.

Sombra grinned wide, opened her mouth, spoke. “If you’re fucking with me again, just remember, I can bring down another drone on our hotel, no problem. Or twenty.”

...not exactly what she’d intended to say, necessarily, but she hadn’t intended to get shot in the back either - hadn’t  _ intended _ to get thrown into a trip-wired pool on a paranoid dickhead’s property, hadn’t intended to send up flares to draw every eye their way when she took out the guards a minute ago.

Sometimes, you just had to roll with the accidents. Run the Hail Mary. Sombra knew  _ that _ pretty well.

“Mm, quite the incentive for me to hold to my word, isn’t it?” Widowmaker quirked an eyebrow. “Incentive, or twenty.”

The dropship that had brought them here - the one which had been waiting at the hill Widowmaker had fired her first shot from - swung in low under Sombra’s control, the repulsor engines flattening the furious flames against the ground all around the pair who stood unmoving in the middle of the devastation.

As it came in, as it opened up, Sombra and Widowmaker stood only a foot apart, eyes locked on each other; Sombra trying to decipher whatever traps or lies were hiding there and Widowmaker simply delighting in the suspicion and paranoia clear in Sombra’s.

Neither of them really wanted to move first, but  _ certainly _ neither of them wanted to stand around waiting any longer either. There was a tense moment where the dropship floated, open and available nearby, and neither of the two of them moved an inch.

They moved simultaneously, but not toward each other - off to the side, a noise sounded even above the flames and the dropship’s engines. A guard who had somehow escaped death and been knocked unconscious instead, at least for a few moments, trying to move and knocking over a chunk of debris with a clank. Trying to move, to flee or trying to fight back, it didn’t matter.

Two weapons sounded at once and ended his efforts, Sombra’s machine pistol and Widowmaker’s rifle barking out in unison as the two kept their eyes locked on each other, and that was all it took to break the tension; Widowmaker dropped her rifle into its sling, Sombra slammed her pistol into its holster, and they both grabbed at the other’s clothing and pulled each other in close.

Fingers twisted tightly in fabric, Sombra trying to say something to the effect of “I totally shot first”, but Widowmaker’s teeth scraped at her collarbone and replaced the words with a rough groan instead. Widowmaker took a breath, lips parting to say something along the lines of “Perhaps,  _ cherie, _ but your shots hit gut and mine hit his  _ head”, _ but Sombra dragged her clawlike fingernails along Widowmaker’s scalp and the words fell away to a hissed sigh instead.

Together, equally impatient, they all but leapt into the dropship which lifted them up and away from the site.

This time, there would be no denials, as Sombra's hands pulled at the deep neckline of Widowmaker's bodysuit and no blue hands swatted her away, the stretchy fabric soon flying away to make a small pile by the dropship’s door.

This time, there would be no teasing, as every attempt at it crumbled into gasps and moans and clutching hands, the stubbornness of weeks dissolving into desire instead.

This time, there would be no waiting.

Widowmaker pinned Sombra back against the wall, warming a hand down the front of the hacker’s leggings and grinning wide at the noises she made, the way she was able to play Sombra like an instrument - and returning them in kind, a different voice playing a different line of the same song as she appreciated the now clear and evident fact that Sombra’s fingers were skilled on more than just a keyboard.

Autopilot was a wonderful thing, Sombra thought briefly as Widowmaker nibbled at her earlobe with a hum - as were the cameras installed in the dropship, those were wonderful too. Not that anybody back at Talon would ever see the footage that  _ these _ cameras were capturing, but Sombra sure as hell wasn’t letting it go  _ unrecorded. _ Not after so long, finally breaking that wall down.

She would’ve laughed in triumph if she’d had the breath for it.

 

\---

 

It turned out to be a mistake. All of it. Every second of dropship sex.

Mostly because neither of them wanted to bother dressing again or  _ stopping _ anything in order to transition from the dropship to the hotel room.

So, they didn’t.

The ship had parked on the rooftop, and there weren’t many people in the hallways anyway - and those who  _ were _ there quickly turned away and fled, blushing, as Sombra and Widowmaker made their way entwined to their room.

In the end, it really was Sombra who got fucked more than Widowmaker - not that the sniper denied the hacker’s hands, for which Sombra was eternally (and silently) grateful, but it was just that it didn’t seem to do as much. It was clear to Sombra that Widowmaker was enjoying herself (and, obviously, of course she was, who wouldn’t? Sombra knew she was one hot  _ chica) _ it was just that Sombra kept finding herself distracted away by all the things  _ Widowmaker _ was doing.

She’d end up flipped around, or pinned against a wall with her arms at her side, or facedown moaning in a pillow, and unable to really return the favour much - but, Widowmaker wasn’t complaining, so Sombra didn’t either. Didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything.

Also, didn’t exactly have the brainpower for a lot of long-term thought. It was mostly limited to snippets of a few seconds at a time, and then Widowmaker would trace a fingernail down the seam between the skin and the cybernetics along Sombra’s spine and her eyes would roll back into her head again and pretty much all thoughts would be gone. All thoughts except for one desire:  _ Widowmaker. _

 

_ \--- _

 

As the dawn started to break outside several hours later, Sombra flopped back on the bed, shivering when Widowmaker followed her and nipped at a dark spot that had been sucked into her neck an hour or two previously.

“Hey, easy, easy,” she groaned, mostly in frustration at herself as she put a palm against Widowmaker’s forehead and pried her away from her neck. “I gotta-” Sombra huffed, breathless, “I need a break for a second.”

She was sweaty, she was sore, she was thirsty, and she was  _ very _ pissed off at herself about it. Silently berating her own body for its failures in making her take a break, and audibly groaning, she pushed herself up from the bed and went to get a glass of water.

“Mm, the failures of being all too human - I win, once again,” Widowmaker hummed as Sombra stepped away, smirking at the way the hacker almost flinched from the words. “One might even think you don’t  _ want _ me,  _ non?” _

Sombra quickly started guzzling water to give herself a moment to think, because it was obvious what was happening - Widowmaker was trying to get more leverage, more ammunition to use in their little game. Wants, desires, requests, openly expressed; they were dangerous things.

Incredibly dangerous, but maybe a little moreso when they were in the future. Maybe more when it was something you wanted but  _ didn’t _ have, rather than something you  _ had _ wanted, and had attained.

...it wasn’t true at all, of course - losing was  _ way _ worse than never having, and Sombra knew that through and through. Nearly dying always left her feeling a little invincible, though, and she definitely felt at least halfway dead.

Even if it was because of the best possible reason.

She refilled the glass with a scoff. “Pfft, yeah right,” she rolled her eyes, shooting a smirk back to Widowmaker in the mirror and saving the view to a memory bank. The water was almost too cold, but at the moment she welcomed it and splashed a little on her face with a gasp before gulping the rest and grabbing a towel to wipe water and sweat off of herself.

“Ah, so you  _ admit _ that you want me, then,” Widowmaker grinned, flipping onto her back on the bed. Her eyes studied Sombra quite intently, the way she moved and the way she stood; Widowmaker thought she would make for a quite good statue, something very classical - midway through a motion, very active, throwing a javelin perhaps, something to highlight her lithe musculature. Something Greek.

Sombra just shrugged, still drinking, and dropped the towel. She grabbed a second glass, filled both, took a giant mouthful of water,  _ re _ filled the glasses, and then walked back over to the bed to set them on the side table.

After she gulped down the mouthful, she collapsed back onto the bed again with a sigh and was immediately met by Widowmaker’s arms wrapping around her - chilled particularly because of the thin coating of sweat, but Sombra was  _ pretty _ sure that was her own sweat anyway. Widowmaker had a pretty weird physiology, and coming from a person who had a couple dozen pounds of metal and wire and cybertronics shoved in various bodily cavities, Sombra figured that kinda meant a lot.

“Eh, you tell me,” she shrugged with a grin, waving a hand to play her final card of the night.

Sure, getting Widowmaker was great - it meant she’d won. Now, though, it was time for the eal flourish, the  _ theatrics; _ revealing how it had all been her plan from the very start.

Widowmaker flipped around onto her back, resting her head on Sombra’s shoulder, and Sombra occupied one hand with running fingers through the sniper’s long hair and scratching gently at her scalp as Widowmaker hummed her approval softly.

A screen flashed into existence, floating up near the ceiling, showing Sombra in some sort of jewelry store. Widowmaker’s eyes narrowed slightly, flicking over, but there was no hint of anything on Sombra’s face except for a wide grin.

It was clear that, whatever she was being shown, it was quite intentional - as clear as it was that the video in question had been trimmed down, doubtlessly to omit certain key details.

“-fine choice, madame,” the clerk was saying, evidently having lost the first part of his sentence to the video editing. “And what size would madame be wanting the ring in?”

Sombra snickered, both on the video feed and in real life as well. Widowmaker’s eyes widened just slightly. There was no ring visible on the screen, at least none clearly besides the hundreds in the display cases, but she was suddenly intensely aware of the one she still wore on her pinky.

On the screen, Sombra was occupied with trying various rings on - a dozen of them, at least, huge and gaudy, with that ever-present smirk on her lips. “Oh,” she murmured, her focus still on the rings on her hand rather than on the clerk she was speaking to, “well, I checked what she’s already got, and she’s a nine.” One manicured eyebrow raised as Sombra pulled a ring off and inspected the inside of it, her grin widening. “Gimme an eight.”

The clerk didn’t look confused in the slightest - a clear professional, bowing to the whim of the customer, as he lifted a small box which had sat in front of him. “Of course, madame. It will be one moment while I resize the ring, of course.”

“Of course,” Sombra replied with a little wave, shoving more rings on to her fingers as the clerk turned away and stepped into the back. As soon as he was gone, she looked up to the camera and waved, and then blew it a kiss.

Widowmaker didn’t tense up as, next to her, in real life, Sombra answered her projected self by blowing a kiss back at the screen. She didn’t tense up, but her mind ran so very swiftly - she almost felt as if she was back in combat again, possibilities rising and falling in instants of hectic action as one of her fingertips swirled an idle circle around Sombra’s belly button. She was beginning to see threads, hints of a familiar-looking web, but it couldn’t be the case.

Could it?

The screen above changed to a different view. A camera in the back of the same shop, the clerk walking through and taking a seat at a bench and then pulling open the box. Inside was exactly what Widowmaker expected to see, by this point - a silver braided band with an emerald set in it. The same one which now wrapped around her pinky finger, unmistakably, as the clerk sat down to resize it.

The screen went black, and Widowmaker realized that the noise she’d been distantly hearing and not really processing was, in fact, Sombra chuckling.

“I had- oh I had  _ such _ a good, big plan,  _ chica,” _ Sombra sighed, shaking her head. “This big whole build-up over stakeouts here while we’re trying to nail this guy, get a couple bottles of tequila back to the hotel room, all kindsa shit. Big plan - and  _ you _ ,” she prodded at Widowmaker’s shoulder lightly, “had to go and fuck it up by being too good at your job! I tell you,  _ amiga, _ times like these a girl could really-”

She didn’t get to finish the sentence, cut off by the sudden arrival of a Widowmaker straddling her and shoving her shoulders back against the headboard and plunging a tongue into her mouth.

Widowmaker knew that Sombra had said she’d needed a break for a moment, but it had  _ been _ a moment. Break enough for now, certainly, and the idea that Sombra had gone to these lengths to orchestrate it all - the orchestration itself, the simultaneous simplicity and complexity of it, she could see it all now. The convoluted path of decisions and plots which had led here, not just on Sombra’s part but on her own.

Wanting was dangerous, yes, but  _ being _ wanted? Quite the opposite.

“Eckhart Averam,” Widowmaker hissed into Sombra’s ear, dragging fingernails down the hacker’s ribs and grinning at the plaintive moan she got in return. “Look him up.”

“In a minute,” Sombra muttered heatedly, grabbing a handful of Widowmaker’s hair.

“No,  _ now,” _ Widowmaker insisted, shaking free of Sombra’s grip but not letting up in her efforts; her teeth met skin at the same time as her nails again, a concerted effort which gained her a deliciously sharp hiss from Sombra’s lips.

“Fine, you’re so needy,” Sombra whispered, clutching desperately at Widowmaker’s shoulders and urging her lower, and biting her lips to stifle a moan as the sniper started to comply - but, she had a job to do as well, and as little as she cared for rules she  _ did _ want to hold up her end of the deal. She hated welchers, after all, and didn’t want to become one.

Even if, in that moment, she really  _ really _ did, because she didn’t want to spare half an ounce of thought to dig up details on some dumbass instead of focusing it all on Widowmaker’s lips kissing a path down her belly, lower and lower and-

Widowmaker’s hand knocked against hers, lightly but firmly - a clear rap on the knuckles as the sniper made a noise as well and Sombra groaned and complied, her fingers swiping over a projected series of screens and controls as she started looking up the guy while Widowmaker hummed contentedly and carried on along her way.

Eckhart Averam, as it turned out (as Widowmaker sucked a mark onto the inside of one of Sombra’s thighs), was an arms dealer of some repute, not quite on the level of dealing with full-on conflicts directly but, from what Sombra could dig up (which was just about everything, even with how distracted she was by the way Widowmaker’s arms curled around the outside of her legs to clutch at her ribs and dig nails in), Eckhart was considered one of the best for sneaking smaller shipments through particular borders, and arranging for very specific things.

Sombra flicked faster and faster through the records, trying to find whatever it was that Widowmaker obviously _ wanted _ her to find, even as her mouth started to let out of its own volition a constant stream of muttered swears in Spanish and her free hand clutched tighter and tighter at Widowmaker’s hair.

“Doin’ a real good job of distracting me there,  _ amiga,” _ Sombra hissed as her hand convulsed involuntarily, sending a data packet to entirely the wrong place and making her scramble to catch it before it arrived or else accidentally end up ordering a few hundred thousand rounds of incendiary ammunition.

Widowmaker pulled her head back from between Sombra’s legs just slightly, just briefly, just enough to say,  _ “Fermez-la, _ you should know better than to interrupt me when I am working. You have a job to do as well, now get to it.”

A rough groan flew from Sombra’s lips as Widowmaker’s mouth met her again and her own was once more briefly overtaken by an urge to swear, an urge she gave in to, but she also kept scrolling through records. She had a job to do. For some reason. She still didn’t know why, but it was  _ really _ hard to say  _ no _ to Widowmaker when she was doing that thing with her tongue.

Or at any time, really.

Eckhart Averman was ex-military, as so many of them were; he’d worked with private security firms after that, even founding a legitimate one (although it had come under some suspicions of a few things), and Sombra recognized the company immediately - she’d seen a bunch of them, earlier that night, at the mansion.

That was when she put two and two together, because Eckhart Averman had apparently been found dead in Nicaragua, two weeks prior, with a single bullet hole through his head and a single kiss on his forehead right next to it in a trademark shade of purple.

“Holy  _ fuck!” _ Sombra shouted, fingers clutching tighter at Widowmaker’s hair as her other hand flew down to dig nails into the sniper’s shoulder and her head slammed back against the headboard.

Laughter greeted her before Widowmaker came up to plant a thorough kiss on her lips. “Ah, _ cherie,” _ she traced a fingernail along Sombra’s jaw, meeting her eyes with a smirk, “I shall take your swiftness as a compliment,  _ non? _ This is what all the men say, ha!”

“You f- you fuckin’-” Sombra pulled in deep breaths, almost overwhelmed by a combination of her own scent on Widowmaker’s lips, the look in Widowmaker’s eyes, and the clear indications of Widowmaker’s evident actions.

Averman’s death would have meant a lot - and, when news of it reached their target of the night, it had seemingly inspired him to return home; Sombra saw now the way he’d shifted his schedule a week ago and bought a new plane ticket to return home earlier. No doubt, to deal with arranging for a new private security force - or, at least, to investigate what would be happening with his old one.

That was why he’d come home earlier than she’d expected, that was why he’d been there  _ tonight, _ and that was why her plan had fallen apart and she’d been forced to throw caution to the wind and just go with it. The reason behind everything:  _ Widowmaker’s _ plan.

The thread of thoughts loosely spun through Sombra’s mind amidst a whirl of happy heat and afterglow as the sniper in question, the one behind it all, grinned.

“Yes, yes, I fucking,” Widowmaker replied with a brief, haughty laugh as she slid the pad of her thumb across Sombra’s lips. “Now,  _ now _ she sees, that this has been the plan all along.”

“Damn fuckin’  _ straight _ it has,” Sombra growled back heatedly.

She’d known it all along, too - had known it right from the very start, that Widowmaker wanted her and that they’d get together like this. Right from day one, and if she’d maybe doubted it from time to time, what did that matter? So what if thinking back on it made her guts get all squirmy?

Just because it hadn’t all been  _ her _ , didn’t mean it hadn’t all been planned.

It was good when a plan came together. When  _ two _ plans came together? That was just about perfect.

 

\---

 

They had to stop when room service arrived - or, at least, one of them did. It was decided (by Widowmaker) that Sombra would be the one answering the door, and Sombra happily complied; she didn’t bother putting on a scrap of clothing first, just opened the door, grabbed the food, and slammed the door shut again with a laugh and a call of, “consider  _ that _ your tip,  _ chico!” _

As they ate, Widowmaker spun the ring idly around on her pinky finger, smirking at the thought of what had gone into it - the plan that Sombra had pointlessly laid out. She should have known that it was all secure in Widowmaker’s hands, she should have known that, as always, Widowmaker would be in control of the situation.

The fact that she’d managed to wrest some of that control, though - or rather, managed perhaps to coincide with it, one hand on the tiller leading the ship in the same direction as the captain - was quite a thrilling thought.

Widowmaker wasn’t used to people being able to keep up with her, and even less so to people being able to slip by unnoticed. Yet, Sombra had managed to do both, and only to agreeable ends anyway. Of course, to agreeable ends. The girl would not be so foolish as to try to  _ fight _ her, no - even in the depths of her own despair and denial, she never really had. When her hands had been swatted away, she’d simply accepted the fact with a beautifully sad resignation.

“Where did you hide it?” Widowmaker flipped over onto her side, legs curled behind Sombra’s back, and held out the ring with a raised eyebrow.

Sombra laughed and grinned. “Let’s just say if you weren’t such a prude on the flight out, you would’ve found it a whole lot sooner,  _ amiga!” _

Widowmaker laughed as well at that, reaching out and pouring herself another glass from the bottles of champagne they’d had delivered - not a particularly wonderful vintage, but acceptable at least. Drinking it half-upside-down and half-sideways on the bed whilst being half-wrapped around somebody else, without spilling, was quite a trial - but Widowmaker was nothing if not cautious, and she certainly had no intentions of sacrificing Sombra’s body heat and contact any time soon.

“Y’know, I’m not asking.” Sombra’s words came seemingly out of nowhere, but as Widowmaker glanced over she saw that the hacker’s eyes were directed at the ring itself - the ring which, from the looks of the video, she’d had sized to fit her own fingers.

“And I will not be kneeling,” Widowmaker replied with a laugh, tipping the glass back as she slipped the ring off of her pinky and reached out, sightlessly putting it on to Sombra’s finger instead. Right hand, middle finger; it fit well.

“Never really thought of myself as a ring girl,” Sombra murmured, looking down at her hand and then glancing over at the scoff she heard.

“You are not.” Widowmaker waved a hand, her nose wrinkling in distaste. “That…  _ bevy _ you were trying on in the jeweler’s? Horrific, truly, every one of them.”

Snickering, Sombra pulled the ring off. “Yeah, good point.” She went to toss it away, but it was snatched up first by a quick blue hand.

“You will not be discarding my gift so swiftly,” Widowmaker set the ring back in place with narrow eyes.

Sombra’s slight grin widened. “Oh yeah? Does that mean you admit you  _ want _ it,  _ chica?” _

Widowmaker’s eyes stayed narrow, slim slits with gold glowing behind them as she set her glass off on the side table and leaned forward overtop of Sombra again. “You tell me.”

Sombra chuckled, the sound shifting to a soft sigh as Widowmaker’s lips met her neck. “Y’know, I gotta say,” she paused for a hiss as Widowmaker nipped at her skin, but her nails curled into the sniper’s shoulderblades and did nothing but encourage the action, “it feels pretty good to win, for once…”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, this is this! It's... _way_ longer than I meant it to be! That's okay though, and honestly I'm not like, super-convinced on it; I just don't know exactly how well it really fits necessarily with the others I've written? It makes sense and flows in my head, but I don't know if I have enough on the page for them to really link together well, if that makes sense.
> 
> Anyway, I did like it overall though, and there were lots of things in here I've had planned for a long time - I wouldn't mind going and filling in some of those segue gaps I mentioned earlier, at some point, but I don't know how long that'll take. This was a little bit rushed for reasons which I'll mention below, and I haven't given it the most thorough edit, either, but I think it's still pretty fun overall!
> 
> I've been really busy with a bunch of things for quite a while now, and one of them I'll talk about in a minute, but in general I'd like to kinda apologize for not putting out as much stuff or as many fics lately as I normally do - I'm getting back into it, but a lot of my writing energy right now is going toward a really big and dark Halloween piece! I really want to have it done on time, so it's taking a lot of my focus right now.
> 
> Another thing that has been taking a lot of focus recently, though, that's also Spiderbyte related - I'm in a Zine that's out now! It's called "Femwatch", and information on it (or buying it, etc.) can be found [right here](https://femwatchthezine.tumblr.com/post/178128406436/sales-are-open), but I'll give the basic rundowns here: there's an SFW and an NSFW version of the Zine, which have completely different content! There's also the option to get both of them in one (but I'm not really sure how that's different than getting them individually?). Digital download only in .pdf format, no physical copy, and the main reason is because it's a _lot_ of content, art and fics both - 250 pages for the SFW Zine, 178 pages for the NSFW Zine, that's over 400 pages if you get them both!
> 
> I wrote three fics for the Zine(s): one of them's Spiderbyte! An SFW fic for Spiderbyte with Sombra cleaning up around the Chateau and probably taking a joke way way _way_ too far (and Widowmaker taking it one step further than that), as well as an SFW fic for Mercy/Symmetra where Sym gets over her nerves and asks for a date (kinda), and an NSFW fic for Pharah/Tracer/Emily where Pharah gets hurt during a sports game and needs a helping hand (or four) in the showers afterward.
> 
> So, if you're interested in any of those fics (or any of the other awesome stuff that's just jam-packed into those Zines), give 'em a look and maybe buy 'em! All the proceeds go to charity, and you can look at the Zine's Tumblr there to find out more like contributing artists and stuff like that.
> 
> Anyway, thanks folks, hope you enjoyed this, and by all means let me know what you thought below!


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